Chapter 5

Margaret was vaguely conscious of screaming. "Get out! Get out!" But the next thing she really remembered was being in her dress and dazedly watching Tony thrust his shirt into the tops of his trousers.

"Oh, my God!" she whispered.

"That Ernest... he's a swine, too," groaned Tony.

"Does he... does he talk?" asked Margaret.

"Talk? He never stops!" cried Tony, buttoning up his flies.

"Why didn't I lock all the doors?" moaned Margaret. "That would at least have given us a few moments to straighten ourselves before they came in."

She was naked beneath her dress. She had stuffed her knickers, her brassiere and slip behind the cushious on the sofa.

Agnes and her escort, the unpleasant looking Ernest, had been expelled to the kitchen and Margaret realis ed that it was tacitly understood that some explanation would he forthcoming from her, though what explanation there could be, other than the true one, she was at loss to imagine.

"What are we going to say to them?" asked Tony, lis mind obviously being in the same line of country.

"What can we say to them?" she asked, savagely. They saw what we were doing."

"Did they?" queried Tony. "Do they actually see us... well... you know!"

"Actually fucking?" almost snarled Margaret. 'Perhaps they didn't but they did see me stroking four prick and if they could see my thighs right now they woudn't have much doubt as to what it is running down them. I'm as sticky as..." She paused, seeing Tony's despondent face. "They're sticky and I love it!" She said, kissing his cheek. She sighed. "Oh, well what can't be cured... I suppose we'll have to ace them. I think I can rely on Agnes. You say this Ernest is a little beast."

"He's girl mad, if that's any help!" snapped Tony. "He's always in trouble with girls. One girl's father gave him a hiding. He put the girl in the... well, they thought she was going to have a baby."

"That might help!" cried Margaret. "Oh, just a minute. I'll have to put my drawers on, 'Im leaking gallons! Excuse me."

He watched as she slipped her knickers up her exquisite, tapering thighs and snuggled them around her pouting buttocks. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the gleam of the light on her lovewet thinghs. She smiled and slipped a tiny handkerchief into the crutch of the knickers. "That'll keep it in for the moment! I only hope your seed isn't as strong as your horn was!"

"Yes. If what you say about Ernest is true,' 'she continued, "it may be that Agnes brought him back her for just the reason that I brought you here."

"You didn't bring me here. I came myself," said Tony.

"That's what you think," smiled Margaret. "Well, we'd better face them."

Tony gulped and followed her is she crossed the room to the door.

Even in the stress of this situation his penis stirred as he watched the graceful sway of her full bottom as she walked across the room and as his eyes slipped down to her peerless calves the memory of them behind his back almost overcame him.

He was close to her as she paused to open the door. He slipped the edge of his hand between her bittocks and sawed it gently up and down. She stopped and turned.

"Oh, darling,' 'she whispered, "what as mess we've made of it... and we've only made love once."

She kissed him, and he slipped his hand inside her dres and felt the hard hillock of her lovely breasts.

"I don't care," he said. "I don't care at all. All

I know is that I love you... I love you! I don't even care if your husband finds out."

"We'll talk about later," she said. "You'll realise that what you're saying now is absolute madness!"

She kissed him again and opened the door.

They walked across to the kitchen and she hesitated for a moment and then opened the door and went in, her head high, if not exactly proudly!

Agnes was making some coffee and Ernest was sitting at the kitchen table drumming his fingers thoughtfully on it.

Agnes turned. "Oh, hullo, madam."

"I'm annoyed at the way you came back tonight, Agnes," said Margaret, trying to instill an honest indignation into her voice.

"I bet you are!" observed Ernest, roughly, from the table.

"I wasn't speaking to you," said Margaret.

"I was speaking to you," said Ernest.

Before she could stop him, Tony had pushed past her and got to Ernest. He grabbed him by his coat and dragged him to his feet. He was quite as big as Ernest and possibly heavier.

"Watch what you're saying, Ernest," he hissed, "or I'll bust you on the nose! If you fancy our chances just come outside."

Ernest pulled himself sullenly free. "Fine way to behave when you're caught chavering!" he sneered.

Tony's fists came up and Ernest planked himself clown in the chair and put his hand in his blazer pocket.

"All right... all right!" he snapped. "Take it easy. Your precious secret is safe with me. I won't say anything."

"You'd better not," said Agnes, "or you'll have me to deal with... and don't think I couldn't handle you; What I couldn't do with my hands I'd do with a hammer. And just don't think I'm kidding!"

"You're so righteous," snarled Ernest. "Why did you bring me here?"

Margaret looked at Agnes.

Agnes shrugged. "I told you I was a sucker for these kids," she said. "I didn't realise what a little louse 'Id picked up, though."

"You brought him here; to my house... for... for that?" asked Margaret.

"No... at least, I didn't intend doing anything with him here. I just asked him in for a coffee."

"You'd have got something else beside coffee," grinned Ernest, unpleasantly.

"I'd have got what I wanted!" snapped Agnes. "I've had real grown men try things with me I didn't want... and still gone home with my drawers on!"

Ernest seemed to make a decision. He rose to his feet. "Look here," he said. "I'm a man of the world. I say jolly good luck to Tony here and Mrs... Mrs..." "Peterson," said Margaret.

"To you, Mrs. Peterson. I don't care what you two've done or what else you're going to do. All I care about is myself. I picked up Agnes here..." "You what?" gasped Agnes.

"Well, all right, we picked each other up. Anyway. I like a game as well as anyone and what I want to know is what are we going to do? Not just sit around rowing and drinking coffee... I hope!"

Margaret and Agnes exchanged looks.

"This is terrible!" groaned Margaret.

"Pretty rough, isn't?" agreed Agnes. "Mrs Peterson, why... why did you do it?"

It was on the tip of Margaret's tongue to say, "I don't know." But she was suddenly very conscious that Tony's eyes were upon her.

"Because I wanted to," she said. "Because I wanted to... desperately. That's why."

"Oh," said Agnes. "Oh, well, it's your business. It doesn't matter with me 'cos I'm not married. I always thought you and Mr. Peterson were very happy together."

She poured the coffee into several cups she had arranged on the table.

"In some ways Mr. Peterson and I are not suited to each other," offered Margaret, unhappily aware that her cheeks were crimson. "But I don't really want to discuss my husband."

Ernest picked up one of the cups. "Is this sugared?" he asked.

"Help yourself,' said Agnes, grimly, pushing him the sugar howl.

"I see Mrs. Peterson's point of view perfectly," continued Ernest, sipping his coffee.

Stupidly, Margaret asked, "Do you really?"

Ernest looked at his coffee. "Yes," he said, slowly. "You don't want to discuss your husband. And you don't want him to find out what you've been up to. I quite see your point."

"Are you trying to be funny again?" asked Tony, belligerently.

"No, I'm not. I do see Margaret's point. Why shouldn't she have a bit of fun? She isn't the first married woman not to be satisfied with her husband."

"You know too much for your age, young fellerme-lad," remarked Agnes. She looked at her mistress. "That isn't what you meant when you said that you don't get on with the master in some ways, is it?" she asked.

Wishing the ground could open and swallow her, Margaret nodded.

"I'm afraid it's something like that," she admitted.

"Well, it's your business," said Agnes, "Can't say I'd mind if he made a ass at me... real good looking, I call him."

"You might not be satisfied with him if he did made a pass at you, as you call it," snapped Margaret despite herself.

Ernest stood up and walked around the table.

It was obvious later that this manouver was to get the table between himself and Tony.

'This doesn't help me," he said. "I came her for a bit of fun and run into a domestic scene... at least, that's what the Sunday papers call this sort of thing. Why can't we act grown up about this? I suggest we discuss it like sophisticated people."

Margaret looked at him. It was strange to see a hoy of seventeen so poised.

"I suggest we make the best of what can be... if we're not babies... a very interesting situation," he said, sipping his coffee.

"Will you listen to him?" asked Agnes, in mocking admiration.

"Why don't you?" asked Ernest.

"What were you going to say?" asked Margaret.

"Just that we go on as we were going to do anyway." He looked at Margaret. "Whatever I've seen is dead as far as I'm concerned and I shan't expect any interference between her and me."

"Less of the 'er'," growled Agnes. "Anyway, what makes you think I want anything else to do with you?"

"So," grinned Ernest, "I just go home to my tent like a good boy?"

"That's what you'll do if I tell you to," promised Agnes, grimly.

"That, my girl, is what you think." He looked at Tony. "You'd better watch how you behave, you big idiot," he said, and, as Tony made a move to round the table, added, quickly, "Because if I have any trouble with you I promise you... may I drop dead right now... I'll see her husband knows what's being going on."

Tony placed a hand on the table to vault it but Margaret grabbed his arm.

"Tony!" she cried, "Don't touch him!"

"I'll smash him!" roared Tony. "You'll smash nobody!" jeered Ernest, now assured of Margaret's belief in his threat. "If you touch me her husband'll know, or I'm a Dutchman. And there's another thing." He nodded his head in satisfied resolution. "I came up here with her for a bit of fun." His voice in real indignation. "And just because you two are up to your games and we catch you I'm not going to get anything? I should say so!"

He glared at each of them in turn. "D'you call that fair? Why shouldn't I have my fun? You two have had yours."

"I suppose I haven't a say in the matter?" asked Agnes, grimly.

"D'you want me to go? You seemed keen enough about me when you brought me up here. D'you remember asking me if I could raise six inches? Eh? D'you remember that?"

Agnes blushed briefly and then chuckled. "That's true," she admitted, "But you've turned out to be quite a little bastard since then."

"All right!" snarled Ernest. "You asked me whether you'd got a say in the matter... well, you haven t!"

"Oh no! It'll be me cuffing you in a minute," warned Agnes.

"Yes? Try it!" jeered Ernest.

"Just a minute," said Margaret. "What are you trying to say?"

"This," said Ernest. "I came all the way up here to get her drawers down and if they don't come down... well, you'll wish you'd never met me."

"We wish that already!" shouted Agnes.

"I'll kill you!" roared Tony, lunging at Ernest.

Ernest whipped around the table. "Keep him off!" he yelled to Margaret. "So help me... I'll split to your husband if you don't keep him off."

"This is blackmail," breathed Margaret, holding her hand before Tony.

Ernest nodded, "There's no other word for it!" he agreed. "But I'm not blackmailling you. All I want is what I came here for... and that's to do to her what h's just done to you." He looked at her and grinned. "But if you'd like to be blackmailed..."

He left the remark unfinished.

Margaret cleared her mind of the last remnants of her conscience rubbish. What could she do? Did it really matter to her if this strange and terrible boy made love to Agnes? She had to admit that it didn't. On the other hand did she mind if Gerald found out about her affair with Tony?

She had to admit in haste she did mind... and mind very much.

She made another effort to clear her mind of the last traces of emotional prejudice. What the boy said was, in essence, fair enough. He had come to the house to make love to Agnes. Why should her having been making love to Tony be allowed to interfere with that? There was no valid, logical reason that she could think of.

She looked at Agnes. It must be rather hard to expect to lay a girl like Agnes and have anything come in the way. Men had plunged nations into flames over desire for a woman. It was asking rather much of a sexy little devil like Ernest to forgo the pleasure of bouncing on the belly of a girl like Agnes... and particularly when there had been no doubt of his success... because he had, through no fault of his own, come across another pair at their sport.

She sighed. The only real doubt she had as to what she should do... or rather allow Agnes to do... was whether Ernest would keep his silence.

This was a big doubt. She looked at Ernest.

"You know that if you told my husband it could ruin my life and Tony's life, too!" she asked.

Ernest nodded brightly. "Oh, quite!" he grinned.

"And you'd do it?"

"I certainly don't want to. Look, all I want is a bit of fun. I'll be frank. It isn't often a kid my age gets a chance at anything like you two... or Agnes, anyway."

"You said 'you two'" remarked Margaret.

"Well, whether you want anything to do with me is up to you. Agnes had already agreed... and I think she's a smasher. As I say, I don't get the chance to having anyone like her very often."

"Doesn't he say the sweetest things?" asked Agnes, but Margaret could see that she was mollified.

"Now come on," said Ernest. "Why don't we face facts and all have some fun instead of standing around here arguing with faces as long as wet weeks? Let's go in where there's a fire. It's jolly cold in here, I can tell you." He put his hand around Agnes and cupped her lefst breast. She knecked it awayafter a moment reflection! It seemed to Margaret that the situation was getting well out of hand, but rather than further struggle against the inevitability that events seemed to be showing she decided to try and ride her luck... to see whether or not some kind of comfortable order could be wrought out of the dangerous chaos her affair with Tony seemed to be engulfing her in.

She closed her eyes tiredly for a moment. What a preposterous situation for the wife of a rising young barrister to find herself in... what tragedy it could lead to, both for her and Tony.

"All right," she said, at last. "Let's go into the lounge."

"That's better," chuckled Ernest, gulping the remains of his coffee.

"Nothing's better for you... as yet. And don't forget it," warned Agnes.

"We'll see! Come on!"

Margaret led the way into the lounge. Almost automatically she walked over to the sideboard and poured herself a very large brandy... as large, if not larger, than she had ever had.

She drank half of it and turned.

"Oh," she said, "would anyone else like anything?

Tony shook his head. Ernest walked over to her. "Wouldn't mind a glass of wine. What's this? Port?"

"Yes."

She watched him pour out a good measure.

"There's very little you don't indulge in, is there?" she smiled despite herself.

"No! Believe in enjoying myself. We're only here once. That's the way I look at it. Don't you want anything Agnes?"

Agnes looked at Margaret. "I think I'll have a drop of brandy," she said. It's been quite an evening."

Margaret poured her one and she sipped it. She made a face. "Ugh! Don't know how people can really like this stuff."

Margaret sat on the sofa. Tony stood awkwardly at one end of it and looked at her in miserable longing.

He could see the shadowed cleft between her breasts and he was very aware that but for the interuption of the detestable Ernest he would have been at some fresh love-play with her.

Wait till he got this Ernest somewhere he could deal with him without interference!

Ernest sat himself in a chair and regarded Margaret with approval. Tony clenched his fists as he saw his eyes wandering from her lush calves up to where her full breasts heaved out the organdie of her dress. He could have killed him when he licked his lips.

"Course, the trouble with your generation," observed Ernest, smugly "is that they want security in verything they do. Now my generation..."

"Leave me out of this!" warned Tony.

"Willingly, old man! The thing about most of my generation is that they've grown up to believe that the first thing to do about good looking girls is to get them to bed. We all think the same... he does too..." With a jerk of his thumb towards Tony, "The difference is he does it under the 'I'm a nice boy... I'd be very grateful for a spot of love act,' while I put my cards on the table. My attitude is that if the girl's older than me she probably jolly well fancies a bit of young cock and I don't blame her and I'm always ready to oblige. I say, this is damned decent port. Can help myself to another?"

Margaret nodded.

"Isn't he wonderful?" laughed Agnes. "If he's as good in bed as he is sitting in a chair talking about in he might be worth a trial bounce, at that!"

Ernest, pouring himself another generous measure of port turned and grinned at her.

"There's only one way to check that!"

Margaret was heartily ashamed to admit to herself that the same thought that has struck Agnes had occured to her, too!

Ernest reseated himself and crossed his legs.

"Will you look at him," chouted Agnes. "He's like some old toff talking about the girls he's laid in the last twenty years. I'd like to bet that he's had more girls in his right hand than he's over had in bed!"

This thrust must have gone home for the smile faded from Ernest's face and for the first time since his arrival in the lounge Tony's face broke into his usual grin.

"You'd win, too!" he laughed.

"All right," snapped Ernest. "I suppose you two only ever go to bed to sleep... I'm not the only wanker in this room... and I'll lay odds on thas."

"Can't you keep a decent tongue in your head?" asked Tony.

"It's true. Anyway. I won't be doing it tonight. "You hope!" said Agnes.

"I know!" retorted Ernest. "Come over here, gorgeous, and sit on my lap. You might learn some thing to your advantage, as the lawyers say!"

"I'm a good mind to take him at his word," grinned Agnes, swallowing the rest of her brandy with a shudder.

"Come on!" teased Ernest, his eyes sparkling from the effects of the port.

Agnes looked at Margaret. Margaret shrugged. "Do as you like," she said.

"I'll try hint," grinned Agnes, and walked over and sat on Ernest's lap.

Margaret didn't know whether to be frightened, horrified, disgusted or more reasonably, resigned. If anyone had told her twenty four hours before that she would be sitting sipping brandy with her thighs wet from the attentions of a lover of fifteen while her maid sat on the lap of a precocious boy of seventeen while the expressed intention of investigating the quality of his erection, she would have had attention drawn to the prophet's sanity.

But there it was... there they were... sitting in her lounge and even as she watched, beginning their love play. Ernest's arm was around Agnes and he was fondling her breasts. As she bent to kiss him, Margaret rose and went over and poured herself another stiff brandy. She looked at the pair on the chair. Ernest's hand was now deep up Agne's skirt and Agnes was giggling with delight.

She tossed off her drink and poured another. This was one way that she might get through the evening!

She walked back to the sofa. Tony still stood at the end of it, face miserable and eyeing Agnes and Ernest with disfavour.

The brandy was beginning to relax her.

"Oh do come and sit down, Tony," she almost snapped. "We've got to make the best of a bad job." She patted the sofa beside her and Tony sat down.

They both looked over to the chair opposite. Ernest was smathering Agnes's flushed face with kisses while his hand investigated the warm charms of her thighs.

"Look at them!" breathed Tony. He sounded shocked.

Margaret sipped a drop more of her brandy. A delicious lightness was beginning to steal over her... an abandoned air that suggested that she had been taking a too severe appraisal of the situation.

"Agnes looks as if she is enjoying herself," she smiled.

Agnes heard her and turned her head.

"I am... he's quite a boy, our Ernest," she giggled. "Stop it!" she yelled, as Ernest's hand dived further than before.

"She wouldn't like it if I did!" shouted Ernest, renewing his delving up her skirt.

Tony, despite himself, couldn't keep his eyes from the white flash of Agnes's thighs above her stockings as she made her token struggle against the attentions of Ernest.

A sudden wild kick showed her legs to the crutch.

There was a flash of colour and Margaret leaned towards him.

"Red knickers!" she whipered.

"I didn't see," replied Tony.

"Much!" laughed Margaret. "Oh, well, I suppose thing's will turn out all right. Oh, Lord, what would Gerald say?" For some reason this self proposed question amused her and she threw back her head and went off into peals of falmost ysterical laughter.

Tony looked at her in wonder. Even Ernest looked up. "Good for Margaret!" her yelled. "She'll be the life of the party yet."

"Why are you laughing like this?" asked Ton.

She laid her hand on his knee. "It is rather funny, after all," she said. "I bring you home here for a quiet evening of smooch and my maid and her boy friend finish up making whoopee in my lounge. But what's extra funny is that I say 'Good luck to them!'"

Tony looked at the almost empty glass in her hand and vaguely realised for the first time the effects of alcohol on the basic morality.

Ernest roared his approval. "Atta girl! Oh boy, what an orgy we could have up here with the other. This room'd look really lived in with half o dozen of the boys and girls chavering all over the floor!"

"What a wonderful idea!" cried Margaret, putting her now empty glass down on the floor. She threw her arms around Tony's neck.

"Why don't we do that? Wouldn't those poor. wet, cold little camper friends of yours prefer to come up here and make love in comfort rather than roll around on a macintosh groundsheet? I gotta idea... let's ask them."

"Some other time," gasped Ernest, fresh from his delightful labour of kissing Agnes's throat.

"Margaret!" breathed Tony. "Are you...?"

"Drunk?" interjected Margaret. "No... but I wouldn't mind if I were. What's the matter with you? Shy? Look at them. They don't mind that we're watching them. Why should we mind? Come on, darling... make love to me."

"He's played out after one sission," roared Ernest. "Come on Tony, get her drawers down! I'm having Agnes's down!"

"Oh, are you?" giggled Agnes, following this query with a shriek as Ernest's hand dived up her clothes. In her struggle she slipped, head foremost, from the chair so that her haunches and legs remained on Ernest's lap while her head and shoulders were on the floor. This placed her at some considerable defensive disadvantage, to say the least of it.

"Stop it!" she screamed, as Ernest's hand groped up past her warm plump thighs to her knicker legs.

"Oh, look at them!" breathed Margaret, her body tense with excitement.

Tony looked and, without being really aware of it, his hand slipped into the loose top of Margaret's dress and he kneaded her hard tits as he watched the adventurous Ernest gain the ascendancy in his battle for Agnes's knickers!

With a quick movement, Ernest slipped between Agne's thighs.

He could thus imprison one of her legs under each arm, much as in a wrestling hold known to fans as The Boston Crab'. Her mid-calves thus secure under his arms it left the fore part of the arms and therefore the hands, free to grope the top of her knickers.

Agnes's writhed and struggled and screamed as she felt his fingers slip into the top of her drawers. Tony halted his lascivious attentions to Margaret's rearing titties as he watched in fascination the delicious scene that Agnes's token struggle was producing. Legs flashing... the white of her delicious thighs plumped over the stocking tops by the tightness of them... and haunches writhing, she fought to maintain her drawers around her full hips.

It was difficult for Tony to decide whether her struggles were real or assumed. He decided for the latter!

He suddenly stiffened and looked down at his flies. Margaret, in her excitement, was groping at his flies. She undid them and slid her cool hand in around his genitals. His balls tightened and his already stiff cock rose to the last millimetre of length and his crimson mount deepened in colour as feverish blood pumped into it.

Her hand began to slid up and down the white pilar. come!

"You dare!" she gasped, easing the speed of her strokes to a gentle, titillating sweep that delicately bared his helmet by pushing the tight foreskin down not quite to the glans.

They watched with caught breath as Agnes's knickers reached her knees. This was as far as they could be drawn owing her legs being under Ernest's arms.

He grinned and suddenly released one leg. In a swift reaction that he must have anticipated, she bent guarded.

She could do nothing about retaining her knickers around her loins now. Despite her struggles, the panting Ernest, his face aflame with desire and port, worked them inexorably down her lovely thighs. There was a harsh sound of ripping material and Margaret's hand went faster up and down the throbbing column of Tony's aching prick.

He grabbed her wrist. "Careful" he cried. "I'll in protecting the actual gash that lay buried between her thighs she could not also cover the riot of glorious blond curls that lay like a triangle of gold from the cleft of her thighs to half-way to her navel.

The curls peeped from between and around her clutching fingers like threads of gold gossamer, hinting of the warm soft secrets they so prettily

"Margaret!" he breathed.

She stopped rubbing him for a moment. "Surely you won't come again just for this?" she smiled. ''Look at them, pay no attention to me. He's getting her knickers down. Look, you can see her fanny!"

Tony gulped and turned his attention to the other two.

Feeling her knickers sliding down over her hips. Agnes had thrust both her hands over her pube. But the leg and Ernest, still retaining the other, hooked the leg of her knickers over the free foot and was thereby left with his mission mainly accomplished.

He grabbed Agnes's other leg and imprioned it again.

"There, what are you going to do now, my beauty?" he laughed, grimly.

"You're not in yet!" rejoined Agnes.

"The little edvil!" breathed Margaret. "He could rape a woman!"

Tony looked at her eager, burning eyes. He then looked down at his penis, stil encircled by Margaret's white finger... but fingers that were now still. He looked again at her face and his heart sank and in that instant took anew appraisal of the situation between himself and his lovely mistress.

In that instant he knew that he was no especially chosen instrument that Margaret's want of love had made her chose from all men to be something that her life needed. He was just an instrument. In the final analysis, of no more basic value than a candle... or perhaps, to give himself some value, a beautifully wrought dil-dol with which she could assuage her fierce sexuality. As at that moment he knew that she could never really love him he knew just a surely that he could never love her. Always would be the memory of how she had said, '...he could rape a woman!' He knew that she had a that moment wished that it was herself that Ernest was tearing the knickers from... it had been in the timbre of every syllable of every word, this stark truth. And as Tony realised it he felt a sense of relief. Now he could settle down and enjoy this affair purely for how it felt to his balls, for it was quite obvious that she would admit him to her belly whenever her thighs ached for him but for what her heart ached for she would never find for it probably didn't exist.

Tony, needless to say, didn't put this proposition to himself in quite the manner of the above.

He objectified all .this realisation with a boyish phrase. 'All she wants is what we've done on the rug just now... and she jolly well wouldn't care much whether it was me, or Ernest or the milkman who was doing it, just so long as it was done. Well, if that's all she wants...!'

His hand slipped up her dress and his fingers pressed the lace net of her knicker crutch into the softness of her lovewet gash.

He kissed her neck.

"Oh, look at them!" she breathed.

His eyes followed hers.

While he had been speculating on the reality of what he and Margaret meant to each other, Ernest had been about more cogent and practical business!

His penis was out, jutting in dark arched fury from his flies. A few moments before Tony would have been desolated by Margaret's next remark.

"Isn't it a beauty?"

"It's had enough exercise!" replied Tony, quite resigned to the fact that it was hardly likely to be long before Margaret sampled the thickness of it!

Agnes was madly trying to to turn her loins so as to present her rump as a target for Ernest's seeking, probing fingers.

He was either too strong for her, or, as Tony and Margaret suspected, her heart wasn't in her defence. Suddenly be slipped from the edge of the chair and forced his body above the hips between her thighs, thrusting them wide apart.

She flung her hands up to his shoulders and began to push and pummel him.

This left her lower belly open to the gaze of Ton)' and Margaret and it is difficult to decide who was the keenest and most interested observer.

It was almost mechanically now that Margaret frotted the proud head of Tony's stalk. Her whole attention was rivetted on the pink slit that glistened deep in the golden bush or the squirming Agnes, who, thighs writhing, was trying to escape the approaching prick of Ernest.

"Doesn't she look lovely... struggling like that? breathed Margaret. "Go on, Ernest, push it into her... sprunk up into her!"

This last injunction was in a loud, shrill voice that made Tony jump.

He looked at her. Her hand was now stil on his cock. Her eyes were ablaze with the fury of her excitement and her whole body was shuddering. He smiled to himself as he realised that this was not because he had moved the tiny strip of her knickers at her crutch aside and that two of his fingers were deep in her hot stickiness.

"Get it into her!" she cried, and then, perversly, "Try and stop him, Agnes!'

"Would you try and stop him?" cried Agnes.

Margaret laughed. She looked at Tony. "It is almost as good as a rape, isn't it?"

Tony, not caring much either way, being more interested in the delights to come when he himself was again buried to the hilt in her, nodded.

"Look at his lovely big thing!" hissed Margaret, involuntarily looking down at the slender white rod that nestled in her hand.

"And mine?" asked Toimy, kissing her neck.

"Oh, it's lovely, too. Slender and strong and I want it up me in a minute... right up into me till it hurts. But let's watch them. Oh, Tony, I want to see him come into her!

Tony smiled and busied himself with working his fingers in and out of her pulsing quim.

He could feel her fanny flesh bulging out to meet the thrust of his fingers and her thighs gripped hotly on his wrist. He washed her mouth with burning kisses and thrust his tongue deep into it while his free hand cupped and weighed the luscious warmth of her firm tits.

Ernest now had Agnes completely helpless. He was on his knees between her thighs and his quivering cock was inches of her gash, gaping between her spreadeagled thighs.

"Now what are you going to do?" he cried. "I can put it in when ever I want to."

Agnes raised her head, and looked at the blood gorged mount poised at the lucious golden haired portals of her vagina.

She shuddered and looked up into Ernest's face. Then, with a shrill squeal of delight, she whipped her hands from his shoulders to his buttocks and gave his haunches a tremendous heave towards her.

Margaret reared from her seat in a paroxysm of excitement as Ernest's penis plunged into the pink, eager stickiness of Agnes's parted slit.

"Look!" she almost screamed, as the hairy lips rounded to take the full girth of his tool as it was buried in her to its base.

Agnes gave a scream of joy and flung herself back full length on the rug. Ernest pushed his legs back straight and fell between her's and began into drieve his fierce thickness in and out of her soft nest.

It must have been difficult fucking Agnes! She writhed and twisted and heaved rolled as her lover's hardness sought out and whipped into burning desire every soft crevice of her aching ring. She moaned and bucked her haunches up to meet each fierce thrust of him, her fingers digging frantically into his trousered buttocks as she pulled him down into her, sheathing with dexterous heaves every vital inch of his driving tool.

His hands ripped at her dress at the breast.

"He's tearing her dress!" gasped Tony.

"I'll buy her twenty dresses!" cried Margaret. She was standing beside the sofa now and Tony slipped his hand up her dress, up over the shimmering thighs to the soft lips of her fanny. She stiffened as his fingers slipped again into her burning hole.

"Play with me... play with me!" she moaned.

Tony, in truth, felt like playing with himself as he watched Ernest rip the tight brassiere from Agnes's heaving breasts.

They quivered, as he thrust into her, like white grapefruit capped with scarlet buttons. Her breasts were very white and in shape almost matched the glory of Margaret's. Ernest dipped his head and frantically sucked the erect nipples, his prick still driving madly into Agnes's quim.

"Fuck her... fuck her!" groaned Margaret, slightly lowering her hips so that she pushed her cunt further down on to Tony's fingers that were slipping into her with piston like regularity.

Ernest speeded his stroke. He threw back his head and eyes shut, plunged in and out of the burning quim the hotness of which was caressing his nob to a fury of abandon.

Agnes raised her head and looked at him.

"You' re coming, you bastard!" she screamed. "Don't finish yet!"

She grabbed his hips and tried to slow him but he drove on into her for another half a dozen strokes. She screamed at him alle the time.

"Don't finish... don't finish, you little bastard! Don't...' Her voice sagged away into a wail of what was absolute horror. Before the watchers widened eyes Ernest gave one last exultant lunge into Agnes's heaving belly. Then, with a shuddering sigh, his quivering body collapsed on to her's.

For a terrible moment Agnes's eyes blazed up at Ernest's lowered head. Then, with a mad yell, she heaved him from her and he rolled over on the rug, his limp penis laying wet and glistening against his trousers.

Although stunned by the suddeness of Ernest's failure, an incongruous thought flashed through Margaret's mind.

"It's going to leave a white stain on his trousers!"

Agnes leaped to her feet, white tits quivering. She held up her dress and almost in disbelief, looked down at her burning pube.

"You useless little cunt!" she screamed, "Bloody little wanker! Why did I ever let you touch me?"

She looked wildly around and her eyes fell on Tony. He was still sitting on the sofa. His hand was still up Margaret's clothes, but his fingers were ummoving just within the portals of her wet slit.

Agnes looked at his still erect cock, standing white as an ivory ruler from his gaping flies.

She flung herself across the room, past Margaret and fell to her knees beside the sofa. She grasped his penis and before he could move, thrust his nob into her mouth and began laving it with fiery caresses. She looked up at him.

"Agnes!" she cried, "Don't..."

"Tin not going to go without finishing now... after that little sod has brought me on like this."

'"But..." began Tony.

Margaret seized his arm.

"Lay on her," she cried. "Oh, let me see you putting your prick up her. I want you to. Oh, please do, Tony. Take her on the floor and fuck her... fuck her, Tony!"

Before anyone could even think of an answer, they had both grabbed him and hurled him to the floor. Agnes Hung up her skirts and straddled him. She knelt on either side of his hips and reached between her thighs and held his penis in her hand. Then she lowered herself and gently eased it into her aching, unsatisfied nest. Margaret threw herself on the sofa and lowered her head to watch the better. Her hand sought her fanny and she began to frig herself.

II Tony had ever entertained the idea of a serious protest, which was unlikely, all thoughts of it now vanished as Agnes's ring slipped up and down his throbbing pillar. This was the first time he had ever been beneath a woman and his eyes blazed with excitement as he looked down to where her hairy gash was slipping up and down his hardness.

He instinctively put his hands to her hips and took some of her weight, in effect, lowering and raising her as she pierced herself on his rigid lance.

"Work up into me!" cried Agnes.

Tony did as she bade and in a few strokes they had perfected a rhythm that augered well for their future sport! In and out of her pulsing quim sank his prick and the action reminded the frantically wanking Margaret of a slender finger being pushed into the flesh of a pink guava fruit. Margaret had now thrown her legs apart, her dress high in abandon around her upper belly, and was driving her fingers into her pulsing fanny with a frenzy of excitement that could hardly have been surpassed if she herself had been on the receiving end of Tony's throbbing cock.

The pattern of the lovers strokes was now a scintillating poem of understanding. As Agnes sank her luscious rump on to Tony's stalk, his buttocks reared from the rug and pushed the last fraction of his penis to the rood into her burning, pulsing, squirming sweetness. Faster and faster Agnes plunged her nest down on to his seeking stalk until her bare white bottom cheeks were almost a trembling blur. Margaret, watching, with every nerve of her body taut, increased the speed of her strokes of her fingers into her pulsing hole.

Suddenly, with a wild, animal like cry Agnes gave a mad downward thrust that buried Tony's penis in her like a fleshy dagger. She quivered and writhed in an agony of passion and than slowly rubbed her spasm to its delicious conclusion with strokes of her haunches up and down his bar.

Then she fell forward on him and kissed his face and wound her fingers in his hair. He was in no condition to appreciate this, however. He gripped her hips and began to lunge furiously in and out of her. Tired and satisfied as she was she made feeble efforts to assist him and Margaret's face contorted with excitement as she saw Tony's jaw muscles go rigid. She watched his face, her fingers still flying in and out of her quim, as he drove his cock into the lovely Agnes's soft body. Faster and faster became his strokes until suddenly, with an upward heave that nearly flung the tiredly quivering girl from him, he sank his prick into her in one last frantic lunge.

A shuddering sigh escaped his lips and he slowly worked himself in and out of her.

Agnes moaned as she felt the swift, urgent jet of spunk impinge on the deep places of her belly, alreadly wet from the juices of her own orgasm.

"Oil, isn't it hot!" she screamed.

Margaret's attention was now rivetted on her own fanny. Legs thrust out hard before her thighs agape, she looked between her legs to her fingers, wet with her love dew, flashed up and down her pulsing wet tunnel.

She threw her head back and her buttocks lifted from the sofa. Her fingers slowed in their delicious task and she sagged back on to the sofa. Her legs buckled into an easier position and a shudder of delight ran through her thrill satiated body.

Tony softly kissed one of the warm hard tits of Agnes, taking her nipple into his mouth and frotting the tip with his tongue.

His dying horn began to slip down the wet, hairy sheath that engulfed it so deliciously.

All was still in the room, all passion spent.

It was Margaret who spoke first.

"I hope you'll do the same for me one day, Agnes," she said.

Her skirt was still up and her fanny hair was sparkling with her love dew.

"The same for you?" queried Agnes.

"Yes, lend me your boy-friend sometime."

Agnes looked over to the dejected Ernest, now sitting back in the chair, his face a picture of humiliation.

"You can have him... anytime!" she said. "Thank you for nothing!" laughed Margaret. "All right... all right!" cried Ernest. "I'll be better next time."

"Next time?" asked Agnes. "There won't be a next time as far as I'm concerned."

"Oh, I don't know, really," said Margaret. A nice big prick like he's got could be trained, I should think."

"I'm satisfied with what I've got," chuckled Agnes, working her fanny over Tony's limpness.

And Tony, the recipient of this delightful attention, was in no mood to deny her his future services!